Havok: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance - Riley Rollins Page 0,126

there. They always were. And I was gonna lead those cunts right into the Reapers' arms.

Never fuckin' thought in a million years it'd come to this. Going up against my own club. But I knew now, that in this life, no matter how much control I thought I had, it was all an illusion. There was no such thing as control in this life. All I could do was respond to the fucked-up curveballs it threw at me. And sometimes, they were really fucked up.

I geared up, putting on a set of heavy leathers. I threw an extended mag into my Glock, and two more on my belt.

I was gonna need 'em.

The pickup always happened at high noon. I headed out an hour early. I had to be there and in position before either club showed.

As I left the NOMAD compound, I passed a guy in the hall I hadn't seen before. He wore leathers, but no patches.

"Ride safe, man," he said to me with a smirk as I passed him. I whirled around to speak, but he kept walking.

Fucking sketched me out for some reason, but I trusted Big Mikey. He vetted everyone who came in here, and he was doing double security duty now.

Still, I doubled back to Holly's room, going the opposite direction of the man. When I got there, I cracked the door. She was sleeping soundly.

"Be back soon," I whispered. I locked the door from the inside and closed it. Then I headed out of the compound.

I got to the drop-off point on time. It was an old warehouse in a valley off the side of the road, secluded from view of the main highway. The hills surrounding the valley were thick with desert brush—a perfect place to hide my bike. I roared up the dusty hills, praying not to get a flat as my bike climbed the dirt-and-brush road. Eventually I got to the top of the hill and killed the engine.

Looking down, I had a perfect view of the valley and warehouse below. But anyone down there wouldn't be able to see me up on the hill, obscured by the vegetation.

I grabbed my canteen off my bike and sat down. I closed my eyes and drank as I waited.

Twenty minutes later, I heard the rumble of bikes.

The Sons got there first. I squinted, looking down at who'd come. Looked like Ryker, with his unmistakeable ponytail, Dash, Lynch, Sandbag, a prospect, and four men I didn't recognize.

I pulled my Glock off my belt, pulled the slide back, and released it. A golden glint flickered through the ejection port as a round entered the chamber.

Then, I leveled my gun at the warehouse below. I aimed squarely for the building, not the men—I wanted these fuckers alive. Then, I pulled the trigger over and over until I emptied the mag. Each blast was defeating, and my eardrums burned over and over with pain, the loud cracks striking my eardrums.

The men below scrambled for cover, grabbing guns off their own belts.

I cupped my hands against my mouth. "On the ground!" I bellowed, my distinctive, deep voice booming over the valley.

Of course, I didn't expect those fuckers to lay down and die. The sound of my voice would be the only thing Dash and Lynch needed to hear, and they'd be after me like hyenas.

I jammed the Glock in its holster, ran to my bike, and started the engine. Voices and the roar of bikes drifted up from the valley. It was now or never.

I thundered down the side of the dirt hill, the bike bucking wildly up and down, the suspension being jarred by every pothole and rock in the road. I held onto the handlebars for dear life, almost being thrown the fuck off into the prickly pear cactus that dotted the mountain.

When I hit the bottom of the hill, I stuck out my foot, turning the bike sharply, and heading for the highway. Just as I pulled up onto the road, I spotted two bikes in pursuit.

Dash and Lynch. Just as I'd expected.

I popped the clutch and twisted the throttle as hard as it'd go. The 1500cc engine between my legs rocketed to life, and I felt the g-forces build against my chest as I launched onto the highway, Dash in Lynch in hot pursuit.

At that speed, it only took a little over a minute to get to Exit 74, but it felt like an hour.

It was now or never. Vargas's guys would either be